Sweets in the Vault
by c1araoswa1d
Summary: The Tardis can take the Doctor to the perfect place for a detox, but she can't predict what he'll tell his companion while there.


There was something about walking around during a snowfall in the moonlight that always tickled the Doctor's hearts in a peculiar way. The stillness of night all around him, silent of its regular daily chaos; the foggy darkness in the distance, ending the landscape as though encapsulated in a globe; the sound of his own blood circulating throughout his body, something generally lost to him beyond the rush of thoughts occupying his mind. It was a break in the madness of the universe. It was a reprieve from his melancholy.

A miracle, he might tell someone in secret.

The sky was black, dotted with alien constellations shining brightly through the near invisible clouds that were drizzling snowflakes down upon his face. He smiled up at it all, feeling the cool spots of ice landing atop his gums and teeth and for a moment he opened his mouth to catch a flake upon his tongue. Laughing, the Doctor looked to the woman approaching from the Tardis, and he imagined telling her to do the same. To taste the particles that had been absorbed up into the atmosphere to form those clouds to let loose that snow.

"That doesn't sound like a particularly intelligent plan, Doctor, especially after what we've just been through," came her answer. Head drifting back, he touched his lips to ponder the fact that he'd asked her aloud as she chuckled softly, questioning as she settled a hand at his elbow, "Are you feeling any better?"

"Better," he groaned, but the word was merely a repetition of her own and he could see she understood that in the sadness she wore. "Make your face right," he ordered, forefinger of his right hand coming up to toggle in her face, landing lightly at her nose before falling away.

His words held none of the frustration he felt towards that frown. He hated to see it mar the face before him; to flatten those cheeks and drag down her thick brow; to deflate her eyes such that the sight of them stung his hearts. Lifting his hands, he cradled her face in a way he seldom allowed and he brushed his thumbs over her flesh, shaking his head at her curious stare before turning away to raise his arms to their surroundings.

"Look at it, Clara. Look at this place."

Her giggle met his ear like a song, and she agreed, "Yeah, perfect place for detox – nothing for you to destroy with this state you're in."

Turning, he raised an eyebrow and let his hands slap against his sides, "Clara, oh Clara, no, you know very well I'm capable of destroying almost anything, even a vacant forest in an alien planet in the middle of the night in the snow."

She nodded slowly, fingers blending into each other anxiously as she looked out at the darkness surrounding them, thinking, he knew, always thinking. Oh, he thought with a flash of a grin, what a Time Lady she would have made had she the ability to become Gallifreyan. What a wild adventure they might have together if she could keep up with him – though, she did a fairly good job of it the majority of the time. He laughed, watching the smoke emerge in puffs from his mouth.

"I don't think I'd fancy being a Time Lady," Clara replied. "Though it would have perks."

"I spoke aloud again," the Doctor stated. "Didn't I?"

She smiled to him, pressing her hands into her pockets. "You keep doing it, been doing it since I found you sneaking those sweets in the vault." Her eyes narrowed, "Did it ever occur to you that sweets in a high security vault are a peculiar choice? Or that not everything you find is meant for eating?"

The Doctor snickered and looked away, cheeks bursting with crimson. He dared not even think the thought as he moved away from her in the event he spoke aloud a dangerous thing. His feet shuffled in the freshly fallen snow and he broke into an awkward run, hearing her call out to him, rushing up behind him. Oh, if she knew how delicious she'd looked, bursting into that room to scold him. All round and pink and smelling of roses, hands reaching out to take hold of him to lead him to the safety of the Tardis as he fumbled.

A sweeter treat than any one might hide in a vault.

The delirium of his indulgence had already taken effect by then, like a most potent alcohol twisting his senses delightfully. He stopped with a gasp, hands pressed against his open mouth and he looked to her as she came to a stop before him, arms out, head shaking slightly. Had he already spoken, had he already told her he'd thought of the taste of her skin and how the lobe of her ear might feel between his lips?

"Doctor," Clara warned, head shifting slightly, body straightening with a bolt of shock.

"Did I?" He hissed.

"Yes," she barked back. "Again."

"Oh dear," he groaned before laughing. "Oh dear, you are a danger."

"Your mind is a danger," she replied honestly before reaching out to stop the sway of his body by his wrists to wait for his eyes to meet hers as she smiled and nodded with him. I must look a fool, he thought. "No more than usual," she explained, nodding again and then sighing, "Let's walk silently a while. Tardis said fresh air would do you good, right? That's what you said before – said a safe place, fresh air, and a bit of walking, and then she brought us here."

He clamped his mouth shut and mumbled in agreement, smiling when she laughed and released him, then began walking from him, gesturing him towards her. Clara rubbed at her arms and raised her eyes to the sky to watch the snowflakes and he sighed, counting the flakes now dotting her hair. Glorious hair, he considered, all thick, luxurious brown locks that curled over her shoulders; how he would delight in letting his fingers bury themselves in it. To take her gently... he stopped and swallowed, seeing her turn slowly, eyes like saucers staring back at him.

"Don't," she began softly, "Think."

"I'm sorry," he uttered.

"You're drunk," she justified, the muttered, "Sort of."

"Intoxication merely serves to undo the restraints of societally acceptable etiquette and its required discipline to know what is offensive and what is not," he drawled, hands lifting in her direction, "If I have offended, I will only apologize for the distain you might have towards the thoughts, but not the thoughts themselves, for they are my own and they..."

"Should be kept in your head!" She barked anxiously.

"Clara," he breathed, "It is rather better those thought stay in my head, isn't it? Never telling, never revealing... it's how I've always done with you, haven't I?" Watching her stare at him, a twinge of fear in her face over what he might say, he felt an awful sort of shame and he questioned softly, "Is it the thoughts themselves, or is it that they come from me."

She remained silent and he bowed his head, turning to continue walking, listening to her call out to him. The Doctor laughed quietly to himself, kicking at the snow while he considered the woman who trailed behind him, her shorter gait struggling to keep up with his deliberately longer one. Put distance between us, he considered, probably the safest route tonight. Perhaps, he pondered, it was why he'd done it since he'd changed. Put distance between them – between their hearts, between their minds, between their flesh.

"And maybe it's not what I wanted. I never asked for that before," Clara barked.

He stopped, listening to her breath, trying to compute her words through the haze of the tainted nectar still coursing through him. Looking to her, he raised a brow. "It's not what I wanted either, only what you imposed."

Shaking her head, Clara demanded, "How did I impose this?" Her hand flapped between them as her frown deepened. It darkened her face and he scowled. He hated her frown; all accusatory and radiating a red hot anger that pierced his hearts too deeply to ignore. He could ignore all the downtrodden lips in the universe except hers. Why _hers_?

"Because I give a damn," he answered himself loudly, knowing he'd already spoken aloud before, seeing the trail of smoke his breath had left floating away into the night. Raising his eyes to the sky, he released a long breath and explained, "I am an idiot."

Clara snorted, but didn't respond, and he laughed.

Shrugging, he continued, "I blame you when I'm the one to blame – and I'm only telling you this because of the sweets, you realize. You've been trying to cross the bridge between us for quite some time – quite forcefully I might add – and I've kept you just at arm's length." He pointed, " _I'm trying to keep you safe from me_. I'm trying to keep you just far enough away to keep you alive in the end. Clara Oswald, undamaged, as much as possible."

"You're protecting yourself too, you know," Clara added coyly, foot swinging to make a quarter-circle in the snow before her, eyes following the curve as she continued, "You keep me away out of fear and it's ridiculous because we're so beyond your worst nightmares, maybe you haven't realized it yet."

Her laughter came easily, her thoughts leaping forward in time in a way he understood all too well. They were already bonded, the likes of which he hadn't experienced with anyone else and they were both damaged beyond repair already because of it. He dropped his arms heavily at his sides and stepped into the arc she'd created in the snow, waiting until she raised her eyes to tell her quietly, "The lengths to which I'd go for you make my hearts tremble with terror, Clara."

"You're drunk, Doctor," she whispered back pointedly.

He smiled sadly, telling her on a nod, "We both know that makes my words all the more true, just as your own only moments ago." Swallowing roughly, he looked between them and met her curious stare again, seeing the knowing look deep down that made him sigh, "Oh, Clara. Clara, do you realize how dangerous we are because of the very thing we both fought so desperately to avoid? The universe doesn't stand a chance."

"I think you need to shut up," she offered.

He chuckled.

"Fresh air, a good walk, and nothing around for you to damage," she repeated the orders of the Tardis clearly for him, nodding as she spoke, eyes trailing away from his.

The Doctor pushed out his bottom lip and he turned from her, leisurely walking away. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, listening to the rustle of snow only a moment later as Clara moved to catch up, walking at his side, occasionally glancing up cautiously at him. Nothing around for me to damage, the Doctor thought to himself, feeling the snowfall again, kissing the skin of his face coldly. He looked to Clara and knew by the way she stared straight ahead, eyes glistening with unshed tears, she understood as well as he did just how wrong he was.


End file.
